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Qatar

“Set her on the floor next to the wall over there, please.” said Niarok

Qatar set Yila down as gently as he could on blanket her brother had laid for her on the hard stone floor.

He looked from the haggard face of the brother to the sister’s, flushed with fever, and to her arm, swollen and discolored.

She’s dying.

without another look he walked away. Memories swirled through his mind.

<Quin, his maimed leg swollen and bleeding; his face stiff and white as their mother’s and his hands just as cold.>

Qatar closed his eyes, trying to block the memories out.

<The look in Pa’s eyes, when he heard about Mama. Empty, like all his insides had been kicked out.>

The look he still wore.

<Quin’s face, with all the Quin gone out of it, and only a shell of a man.>

Too fragile for Qatar to touch, but hurting too much for him to leave it alone.

He shook his head. His eyes fell on his brother, still talking with the assassin. Quickly, he looked away.

Somewhere nearby he heard the tinkling of water, and went in search of the stream. It was dark and very cold. He turned back to see Niarok digging frantically in his pack.

He came back to the place where Yila lay. Niarok looked up at him, with more pain in his eyes than he meant to show.

“What?” he almost snapped.

“Go get some rest. If the castle can’t help her, there’s nothing you can do. There’s a stream over there.” he gestured to the other side of the cave. “Go wash the blood off.”

He sat down next to the girl, and waited.

Niarok got up reluctantly and started toward the stream. As he came close, the one-legged man broke away from the assassin and hobbled up to him.

Quin

“I’m Quin–his brother.” He jerked his head in the direction of Qatar. “She’s your sister, isn’t she?” asked the man.

Niarok nodded.

“Is it bad?”

Nodded.

“I heard it was…” he seemed unsure of himself. “A venom some sort, and you–you don’t have the herb to cure it?”

Nodded.

Quin was quiet so long, Niarok started to make his way toward the water again.

“Have you thought–would it help–”

He couldn’t suggest  that. Quin’s gaze drifted to where Yila lay in the shadows, one shadow darker than the others, and shivering with fever. Niarok’s glance followed his.

Death is a far better option. His jaw set. Then he saw the look in Niarok’s eyes as he looked at his sister.

“Have you considered…amputation?”

Before Niarok could answer, Quin whirled around  and walked away, quicker than Niarok would have thought possible on crutches.

 

Again, change whatever you want!